Rescued
by Txcutee
Summary: I was in love. But then they hurt him and he was taken from me. I was blank, I didn't pay much attention, even wandering the streets at night I just stared at my feet. Then I was almost hurt, almost taken. But a stranger saved me, in more ways than one.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Today is Christmas eve. Daniel runs around the house on a sugar rush from the hot-chocolate we had earlier. I sit in my plush red chair in the corner of the living room, starring out the window covered by little raindrops at nothing. My mind wanders to memories that really shouldn't be replayed. But they come anyway. The memories bring pain of longing, sadness, loneliness, and anger. I should be happy at my son's smiles and at how much he looks like his father, but I'm not. I can't. I am too stuck in the past. I should let go and realize that he's not coming back. But the past is just, for some unknown reason, where I always seem to go. It invades my mind and my dreams every day. Every goddamn day. I need to stop acting like my mother who shut down on me when the people I loved most died.

I feel pressure on my knees as Daniel pushes himself up onto my lap. I try to shove away all the unwanted thoughts and focus on my son's blonde hair that sticks out in every direction. He looks up at me with his piercing blue eyes that are still alight with happiness. And sugar.

"Mommy?" he asks in his sweet six-year-old voice. "Why are you sad?" He puts his little arms around my neck and pulls himself into me. I brush away the his hair but it falls swiftly right back to where it was before. I try and give him the best convincing smile - though I'm sure I fail completely.

"Are you ready for bed?" I ask, avoiding his question. He shakes his head and all his hair flies around, messing it up further. "You need a haircut, little man."I say, ruffling his hair. He gives a sweet, high-pitch, little laugh that echos around in my ears.

"Mommy, stop it." He laughs even harder. He pats his hair down as a attempt to put it back to its original state with little success. I wrap my arms around him tightly and stand up.

"How does some warm milk sound?"

"No, the milk is for Santa!" I laugh and rub my nose against his.

"There will still be enough for him after we have some." He looks doubtful but doesn't say anything. I walk into the kitchen and set him down on the counter. I go over and fill two mugs full of milk and put them in the microwave. Daniel swings his legs back and forth while he counts down with the microwave. The timer goes off and I open the door but before I can take them out Daniel's voice cries out.

"Mommy!" I turn around and stare wide-eyes at my son.

"What is it sweetie?" I say, putting my hands on his shoulders.

"You can't take the milk out without protection on your hands. You'll get very, very bad injuries." I laugh at his protectiveness. My smile falters a little when I think of how much he's like his father. I shake my head and I grab the outstretched oven mitts from Daniel.

I set the mugs on the counter. Daniel goes to pick them up but warn him about how hot they'll be. He blows long and hard on his milk and I watch as he blows how much saliva he is spitting out.

Deciding it's cool enough, he holds the cup up to his lips and takes a big gulp. He pulls away and looks at me. Daniel gives me a confused look as I begin to laugh. His upper lip is cover in a big milk-stache.

When he's done I grab the towel hanging its rack and wipe his mouth.

I scoop him up in my arms—even though he is getting way too big for this and I don't have a lot of arm strength—and we go up to his room. Setting him down softly on the bed and tucking him in, I kiss his forehead and stroke his hair.

As I turn to go his little hand reaches out and grabs mine.

"Tell me about daddy." I'm speechless. I knew this conversation would come at some point of his life, I just didn't think it would be so soon. I am reluctant to tell him considering what night this is.

I curl up next to him and wrap my arms around him.

"What is it you want to know about him?" He's quiet for a minute.

"What did he look like? And what was he like?"

"He had blonde hair much like yours. Tall. Strong. Handsome. Polite. Had some...anger issues...he was mysterious.

"Why did he leave?"

"Because...he..because he...He went to leave in a better place."

"Did he not like District 12?'

"No, he did. He liked it very much."

"Then why did he move somewhere else? Didn't he love us?"

"Your father loved us very much."

"Then why did he leave?" The whole conversation is bringing tears to my eyes but I force them away. I can not break down in front of my son. "It because his mother didn't like us, right?"

"How did you..." I start. He looks away in the opposite direction guilty. "Daniel...?" He looks back over, avoiding my eyes, and points at his nightstand. Looking over I see my old diary...journal laying there on the edge. _How did he find that? _Hesitantly, I reach over and pick it up. I flip through the pages at all my entry I have.

A sniff come from beside me. Looking over I see Daniel with tears running down his delicate face. I wrap my arms around him tightly, quieting him as I tell him it's all right. He nuzzles his head into my neck, dripping his warm, wet tears on me. I rub his back even long after he falls asleep in my arms.

Knowing I should go to my own bed, I gently tuck him back in and kiss his forehead.

I stare at my journal in my hands, wondering if I should read it or not. Knowing I shouldn't I open it anyways and read some sentences of random entries.

I hold it close to my chest as I walk out of the room.

I walk downstairs and pull out the presents I got for Daniel and put them under our small Christmas tree we cut down from the woods.

I go to the kitchen and pull out the liquor that I always save for uncle Haymitch, and pop the top off. I always tell myself that I shouldn't, but do anyway. I drink the liquor whenever I felt most depressed or Christmas eve—today. I tip the bottle up to my lips and let the fiery liquid run down my throat. The sensation is calming but not enough to take away all my pain.

Taking the rest of the bottle with me, I go and lay down on my bed.

Unable to resist, I open the journal and skim read through some of my entries, occasionally drinking some liquor when the heartache is too much.

After I can't take it any more of reading the damn thing, I set it down on the bed side table. The alarm clock beside me says that's it two-thirty. _Had I really been reading for that long?_

Not bothering to changing out of my clothes I had been wearing all day, I turn of the lamp and snuggle under the covers, and hug his pillow, and imagine it's his warm body that I'm holding.

Even thought I had not expected it to, I curse my brain for giving me another restless night's sleep of nightmares.

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**It's kind of short, but it is only a prologue. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. I'm not exactly sure about this, so if I get five reviews by tomorrow at noon saying I should continue, then I'll post the next chapter.**

**~Txcutee**


	2. Chapter 1

**READ AND ENJOY!:)**

**Disclaimer: I do no own the Hunger Games only this idea.**

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**Chapter 1**

My feet laid sprawled across his legs while my head rested on the arm of his old couch. I stared at the television in complete boredom, not really paying any attention to what was going on. I had no idea what the movie was called but it was _so boring_. Peeta had his head rested on the back of the couch with his eyes closed. If he just resting or asleep I had no idea.

I was almost asleep when Peeta's voice broke through the silence.

"I'm hungry. We should go and eat somewhere." His words were incoherent to my ears as I slowly faded away into sleep. He spoke again but now I could hardly tell that he was making a sound, instead it sounded like a small muffled noise that I wouldn't think twice about. Before I went completely unconscious I felt him place a light blanket over the top of me.

When I woke again the room was nearly pitch black and Peeta breathed evenly next to me. Sometime during my little nap, Peeta had shifted and fell asleep with me laying at my side. My head laid on his chest with my arms around his neck. One of his arms was wrapped around my waist holding me close to him, while his other laid under his head. I smiled to myself as I curled closer to him-if that was even possible.

Peeta stirred a little at my movement but did not wake up.

Unable to fall asleep again and with the t.v. turned off, I found myself bored again. My thought soon drifted off to memories: both good and bad-but mostly good-of Peeta and I. My finger ghostly drew random irregular shapes across his chest. His arms pulled me tighter into his chest as he slowly woke up from his slumber.

He took a deep breath of air before he said, "Hello beautiful. You sleep well?" He kissed my forehead.

"Yeah. You?" He placed a strand of my hair back behind my ear, smiling at me warmly.

"'Course I did. I held you in my arms the whole time." Scoffing at his technical truth, I hit his chest playfully. "What time do you suppose it is?"

Shrugging my shoulder, I reached into his front pocket and pulled out his phone. Clicking the button on the side the time flashed on the screen.

"12:54."

"Well I'm starving, we should go out and get something." As if on cue his stomach began to rumble, sending us into fits of laughter. "Come on, we should go out."

"At this late hour? Are you serious?" He nodded.

"Of course I am." I stood, picking me up along with him. He held me around my stomach and just high enough so my feet didn't touch the ground even when I pointed my toes. He kissed my cheek then trailed down my neck and to my collar bone. He pulled out unwanted giggles that him and Prim could only seem to get out of me those days. And Prim was now gone from this retched world.

"I'm not hungry," I said. He opened his moth to protest, but I held up my hand. "You can come back in the morning, and make sure I eat. Right now I just want to go to sleep. He smiled, leaning in and kissed me. I kissed him back, my hands slid around his neck and held the hairs on the back of his neck. His hands were around my waist, holding me as close as he could.

Eventually he pulled back, resting his head against mine. I leaned in to kiss him again, but he stopped me.

"I should go." It was then my turn to protest, but stopped me with one short peck on the lips. "Like you said I'll see you in the morning." He gave me one last smile before slipping out of my small apartment. I stood there shaking my head at the closed door.

Sighing, I went to my bedroom. Not bothering to change my clothes, I climed into bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.

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I was startled awake from my dreamless sleep by the ringing phone in the other room. Light streamed in brightly from the window I hadn't closed last night before I went to bed, momentarily blinding me.

"Damn," I muttered, covering my face with my hands. I let the phone ring a couple more times before I groaned and ran to the phone.

"Hello," I said sleepily and slightly out of breath. Whoever was on the other end was silent for a moment, I guessed, trying to find the right words.

"Is this Katniss Everdeen," a deep, male voice asked. I was expecting it to be Peeta's sweet, soft voice, so the the actual voice on the phone startled me, and it takes a few moments to answer.

"Yes, this is she."

"Are you associated with a man named Peeta?" As soon as the words were said, my blood ran cold. _Oh dear God_, I chanted over and over in my head. _Oh dear God, what happened_?

"Yes," I croaked. I had most defiantly not planned on my voice sounding like that. "Is there something wrong?"

"No one know what happens," he paused, though I wished he hadn't. The longer he keeps me waiting in anxiety, the more I just wanted to pull on my hair and scream until my voice was hoarse and it hurt to talk.

"I'm officer, Brutus from the Panem Police Department." I didn't answer, so he continues on. "No one knows what happened," he said again for who knew why. "We think it might have been from a fight. We have been getting lots of reports about loud disturbance, drunks roaming around the neighborhood in the middle of the night, and many others. In the time we've been investigating, we have found that all these reports have come from this gang of men, who thought to be in their early twenties. Anyway, last night around the place he was found, was a report from someone who thought they heard screaming and the sound of beating." _The place he was found? What the hell happened? _"We are to believe that it was this gang that injured him."

The information was not making sense to my somewhat-still-asleep brain. So many things were racing through in my mind, I didn't know how to process it. He kept talking more about what he thinks happened last night/early this morning, buy I can't take it. He isn't telling me anything about Peeta, and yet he goes on.

"Get to the point," I practically yelled into the phone. "What the hell happened to him!" He was silent, most likely from my rude outburst. "Enough with all the shit about them; I don't care. What. Happened. To. Peeta." I knew I was being really shitty to him, but come on, I was getting a call from a guy at like seven in the morning, who was telling me crap and not telling me a single freaking thing about what has happened to my boyfriend. You had to of cut some slack.

He took a deep breath, clearly stalling from telling me what was wrong. "Maybe you should come and see. He over at the Saint Mary's hospital." I opened my mouth to yell some more colorful language at the guy, but he spoke first. "Good day Miss Everdeen." With that he hung up, leaving me with my emotions, and without any further explanation other than that he was at the hospital, injured. What a coward. Couldn't even tell me what had happened to my Peeta. After all that waiting on the phone to tell me what the _hell_ happened to him.

I pulled on my coat and walked out my apartment door. I rushed down the stairs and to the hospital, cursing myself the whole way for not having enough money to buy myself a car. Any car that drives would be fine, but _no_I told myself that walking is good for a person. Well that turned out to be shit up my ass. Wonderful, just wonderful. Because of my ignorance for not wanting a car, I had to walk a whopping five miles. I could have just called a cab, but of course my phone is out of battery and there was just so much traffic. Walking was most defiantly the fastest way to get there. Why today of all days was it that the odds just weren't in my favor.

Halfway there, I realize I must look like a complete wreck. My hair was probably all messed up from not brushing it before I walked out the door. Plus, my clothes were all wrinkled from having slept in them. Not only that but, I was running like my life depended on it. It probably did. I might of just died from the anxiety of not knowing what was wrong with him.

When I got in the hospital, I ran up to the lady at the front desk, slamming my hands down on the counter. She looked up startled, but then relaxed. She must have been through the same thing dozens of times with other people with loved ones here in this retched place.

May I help you ma'am?" Her voice was soft and somewhat soothing. She smiled as she waited patiently for me to answer. I just stood there starring off into nothing with an open mouth, trying to find my voice to ask her where Peeta was.

When I found my voice, my voice came out barely audible. "I'm looking for Peeta Mellark." I hated how my voice sounder so small and vulnerable at that moment. It made me sick.

The old woman in front of me was kind enough not to say anything, not even a face. She just went to the computer and looked up what room was his.

She looked up, giving me that warm smile again. "He's in room 502." Thanking her, I turned and walked slowly in the direction of the rooms, paying close attention to what the room numbers are.

After spending a whole ten minutes looking for his room, an employe comes up to me. She looked maybe a few years older than me. Probably in her late twenties. She looked nothing like the girl at the front desk. A scowl was plastered across her face, her arms crossed, and was starring me down in an accusing glare. She had blonde pixie-styled haircut

"You lost," she asked, then laughed. Her laugh sent shivers down my spine. Her laugh was cold and evil-like.

Calming herself down with many deep breaths asked , "What room you looking for?"

Avoiding her gaze by starring down at my feet, I answer, "Room 502." She laughed again, this time worse than the first time she laughed.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're on the wrong floor." My heart sank. All that time spent looking for him only to find I wasn't even on the right floor. Just my luck.

"Come on brainless," she said, walking past me, but not without a small shove to the shoulder. "The elevator is this way." Not really wanting to, but not really have any other choice, I turned and followed her down the hall.

She stopped at the end of the hall and pressed the up arrow next to the elevator doors. We stood in uncomfortable silence as we waited for the elevator to come down to this floor.

When we get in the elevator, the woman next to me pressed the button with the number five on it. I mentally curse myself for not having any common sense. Of course a room starting with a five would be on the fifth floor. I felt so stupid sometimes I just wanted to bang my head against a wall repeatedly.

I looked at the opposite side of the elevator or just wherever she wasn't standing.

"I'm Johanna," she said, braking the horrible silence between the two of them. I looked over at her. Her hand was outstretched to me. I just starred at it,not sure if I should shake it or not. She seemed like one of those people who seemed to pull bunch of pranks on the people around her, and right then I was the only one in the elevator with her. "You're supposed to shake it brainless."

"It's Katniss," I snapped. She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

"We'll someone's bit of a spit fire aren't they," she said teasingly. I didn't laugh, only glared and looked away.

The doors pulled open and I literally jumped out of them. I was about to rush down the hallway when Johanna called back out to me.

"Anxious much? By the way you shouldn't leave without me. I am your tour guide; not the other way 'round." Huffing out a long breath, I shrugged my shoulders and turned to face her. She held a small, smug smirk on her face, and I just wanted to just wipe it right off with a nice punch to the face. "No need to get all feisty. The room's this way." She goes by, bumping me again. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything.

She stops at the end of a hallway. A few doctors were rushing in and out of the room, nonel of them not really in a rush. I get the same feeling as when I was on the phone with that jackass officer. Something was most defiantly wrong. I could tell by all of their sad, tired, faces.

A doctor stops when she sees us. "May I help you, ma'am?"

I nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Well," she asked a little impatiently.

"Is he okay? No one will tell me what's wrong or what happened to him." She starred at me for a moment before sighing and motioning me back the way I just came. I reluctantly followed her, Johanna not far behind.

The doctor goes back down to the first floor. Looking around I saw many people crying and hugging each other tight. The whole sight just depressed me further. I had a gut feeling that something was wrong and everything wouldn't be okay. That somehow what she was about to tell me hurt me and send me into a wave of tears. As if I hadn't looked pathetic enough. How has the day turned out so bad? How did my life end up like this? How did I loose so many loved ones?

Suddenly the doctor stopped unsubtly, causing me to almost run into her back. She turned and put her hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye.

"Miss Everdeen," she said, though how she knew my name I didn't know since I hadn't even said anything. Her next word felt like someone had just stabbed me in the heart. "Peeta has internal bleeding."

_Okay_, I thought, _Internal bleeding isn't fatal. They can fix him. He'll come back to me, and he'll tease me for worrying at nothing._

"Unfortunately, we didn't find him till about an hour ago, and by the looks of it, he's been bleeding for hours before that. We've done everything we can, but it's not good enough, he's slipping away. There's nothing we can do anymore. We're just going to have to let nature run its course."

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**Hope you guys like this. Please send in your ideas, thought, or anything you want me to hear.**

**Check out my other story "The Love that was Never Meant to be". Hope you like. :)**

**~Txcutee**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to all who reviewed! :) (btw it helps me right faster *hint hint*) READ AND ENJOY! And don't forget to check out my other stories and leave some reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. All rights go to Suzanne Collins.**

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**Chapter 2 **

My heart stopped, the blood draining from my face.

_No_!

He wasn't coming back. He was dying. He wasn't going to ever going to come to my ratty apartment, and make sure that I have something to eat. He would no longer be able to comfort me after nightmares. He was going away. Leaving me to face this horrid world by myself. Leaving me like he said he would _never_ do.

"You can go visit him if want. He doesn't have much more time left in this world." Tears filled up my eyes, but I forced them away. I looked at the woman and realized she was waiting for and answer. Numbly, I nodded.

I followed her back up the building and back to Peeta;s room. It wasn't like when I was here a few minutes ago. There was no doctors that I could see. The doctor opened the door to his room, leading a few doctors out of the room. She nodded her head for me to inside.  
Inside, Peeta was laying down, his face peaceful. His heart slowly thumped in an uneven rhythm, each beat getting farther and farther apart from the one before it. I went over and sat in the seat next to his bed, slipping my hand in his cool one.

"You said you'd never leave me. You promised. You can't leave me now." Tears slid down my face. "I love you, Peeta." Maybe I imagined it, but it looked like his lips curled up into a smile like he knew I was there and could hear me. "I'm sorry I never said it before now. I hate how you're about to die and I'm just now saying this. Hate that it took for you to _die_ on me that I'm just now saying this. Hate how I've known this for a while now and never said anything to you, even when you've said it to me a million times after I realized I did." I pulled his hand up, holding it to my cheek. "I'm sorry." I got up and kissed him softly on the lips, even long after I heard the drone sound of his heart beat that had gone silent.

I didn't scream or shake for him to come back to me. There was no point. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. No need to waste time hoping he will. I just sat back down in the chair and let the silent tears fall effortlessly down my face. His hand was as cold as ever, but I didn't let go. His face was pale, but no less beautiful than it was before. Even though his lids covered his eyes, I could still imagine his bright, blue orbs. Everything was the same about him other than those things, and the fact that he was dead.

I didn't bother to tell myself that it would be okay, because I knew it wouldn't. I was alone. There was no one left for me in the world. Peeta was dead and gone, along with the rest of my family. I didn't know why I had let him into my pointless life. It had just felt right at the time. It felt nice to feel loved again. I knew I shouldn't have formed that kind of relationship with him, but I just couldn't help it. And now he's gone and I'm left broken again. Broken, with no one to comfort me. Just like last time.

I stayed there, holding his hand, until the hospital forced me to leave. Even then, when they said I must go, it was a struggle to get me out of the room away from him. Johanna came in and wrapped her hand around my wrist tightly, probably leaving dark, hand-shaped bruises.

Out in the hallway, she dragged me out of the room and down the hall and back to the first floor. It didn't take much effort since I was just following her without complaint, but I was only following semi-conscious of what I was doing. We were so close to the front doors when realized where and what I was doing. I screamed and struggled against her grip, trying to get back to Peeta's room, with no success. I felt hopeless and weak breaking-down in front of them all. I laid on the white tile of the floor, curled up in a little ball, crying my loud tears out. People were probably starring at me with disgust, pity, sympathy, sorrow, knowing, but I paid them no mind. I didn't want any of it. Johanna was knelt down on the floor next to me trying to calm me down. I must have looked like some mental chick, and needed help desperately with some therapy. I probably did, considering what just happened and how much I had left in the world-which was basically nothing.

While I was on the floor, I wondered how many other people had cried on this exact floor, or if any. Was I the first? The first to make a complete fool of myself over death? I hadn't even cried that much when my whole family died and I was the only one left.

Even though I hadn't been that long without my family, it felt like a lifetime. Then Peeta came, and he made everything seem right again. And even though long before he had came into my jacked-up life, I had learned nothing will ever be okay, he made me want to believe it again like when I was a small child.

Though I had loved every second I'd spent with, I regretted it. I had promised that I wouldn't let myself end up like this again, so I closed myself off. But did I listen to myself? Of course no. That's why I was on the floor, crying my eyes out like the loser I am.

After maybe ten minutes, my sobbing had subsided. Johanna was sitting at my side, no longer saying anything to me, but just awkwardly rubbing my back. Even after I had stopped crying, neither one of us said anything.

After a while, Johanna stood up. She held out her hand to me. "Come one, brainless. The floor is dirty." The faintest of smiles appeared on my lips, though she didn't notice. I took her hand and she pulled me up, taking me to an empty couch across the room.

We sat in silence, neither of us knowing what to say after something like that. I starred at my lap, fiddling my thumbs with nothing else to do. I tried to put all my attention on my hands, tried thinking of anything other than my now dead boyfriend.

I felt like someone was watching me. At first I had thought it was Johanna, but it wasn't. I looked up from my lap, my eyes meeting deep blue ones. I quickly dropped my gaze, but I could still feel his boring into my head. I tapped my foot, not being able to stay still under his gaze. Johanna slapped her hand down on my knee.

"Stop that," she hissed. "It's annoying."

"Sorry," I said, another small smile coming across my face. She smirked, leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes. I looked around the room, my eyes landing on the boy across the room who was—still is—starring at me. I scowled at him and waved my arms, trying to snap him out of it. He didn't seem fazed, just kept studding me. Giving up on him, I leaned back, and crossed my arms. Johanna peeked at me out of the corner of her eye that are squinted shut.

"What's got you all fussed up? Just a minute ago you were draining your body of all water."

"Was not," I scoffed, avoiding her eyes. I quickly glanced back at the blonde boy across the room. He was still starring at me. What was his problem?

"So that's it huh?" She moved a little, making herself more comfortable, her eyes never leaving mine. I looked away first. "Ha." I looked back to her to find her looking at him.

Knowing exactly what she meant, but not wanting to give myself away that easily I asked, "What do you mean?"

She ignores my question, knowing that I knew what she meant. "He's kind of hot don't you think?" She winked, and I rolled my eyes.

"My boyfriend just _died_ like ten minutes ago. I don't care whether this psycho staring at me from across the room is hot or not." She laughed and shook her head.

"You should probably stop saying boyfriend. Cause technically, he's dead, so basically you're not together anymore. Now he's just your...ex." She giggled, but it came out more like an evil laugh. "Haha. If you put an s in front of..." She trailed off when she saw my face. "Not funny. Most defiantly not...funny." The last word came out as a snort. She slapped her hand over her mouth and looked around to see if anyone heard. Satisfied no one did, she looked back at me, her face serious. "Not a word to anybody. Got it?"

"Who's to tell," I asked smirking. She scowled and shook her head. She looked over at the man across the room again.

"Well look who's coming over." She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

"He's probably coming to tell you to stop being such an immature nurse." She held her hand to her chest in mock hurt.

"Me? Immature?" I rolled my eyes.

"Excuse me," said a deep voice next to me. I looked over and saw him. Johanna was right; he was hot.

Piercing blue eyes stared at me now, and I advert my eyes for just a moment, looking to Johanna. She was smirking. I looked back to the man and noticed his hair, handsome and golden, swooshing away from his face in the windblown look some guys are always trying to perfect. And, truthfully, I would say he had perfected it.

Despite all this, I still managed a somewhat rude, "What?" He raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem surprised at all by my reaction. He must have saw the break-down I had fifteen minutes ago.

"Are you Katniss?" I stared at him, then at Johanna, who seemed to not know what emotion to feel. Her face went between amusement, surprise, and awkwardness. I shifted around a little on the couch, getting a better look at his face. Something in my gut told me not to trust him and just scare him off, but instead I said.

"Depends on why you're asking." He gave a small grin and turns away.

He already knew the answer, but asked anyway, "are you or are you not Katniss." I said nothing, just stared at him blankly. "Well alright then. "He started to walk away slowly."

"Oh just spit out whatever the hell you were about to tell me," I yelled exasperatedly.

"Sorry I'm looking for a Katniss, not a no namer," he says not bothering to look back, although, his steps did falter a little when I spoke.

"I never said that I wasn't Katniss."

"You didn't say you were Katniss either." I let out a frustrated huff of breath. That guy was really getting on my last nerve.

"Well I am so get on with it." He turns around and looks at me for a while, studying me like he was doing earlier. "What is your problem? Stop staring at me like that." He adverts his eyes a little, and walks a few paces towards me.

"Peeta's your boyfriend, right?"

"Was," I correct him, fighting off the tears that were sure to come sometime during this conversation.

"Good."

"Good," I shrieked, my voice a octave higher than normal. "What do you mean, 'good'?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people staring at me again with that weird look all over their faces.

"Doesn't matter, I've been waiting for you." Creeper much? "I was the one who found Peeta." I inwardly gasped.

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**Hoped you enjoyed:) Please send your thoughts to me. Have a good rest of the day. Remember: Keep calm and hope your laptop isn't possessed like mine. This the conversation I had with mine the other day:**

**-Hello my name is Hannah.  
-Hello, Hannah. My name is Tom Riddle.  
-Will you talk in front of my mom? (i said this cause i showed my mom that and she didn't believe me)  
-No! She is evil and non-magical, she can not be trusted! Now come follow me on the adventure to destroy that Harry Potter.  
-NO HARRY POTTER IS AMAZING! I WILL NOT FOLLOW YOU! YOU WILL NOT POSSES ME LIKE YOU DID GINNY WEASLEY!  
-Well, Hannah (my last name) you-  
-HOW DO YOU KNOW MY LAST NAME? I NEVER EVEN SAID IT!  
-I am Voldemort, I know all.  
- Oh yeah, What color shirt am I wearing, hmmmmm?  
-White.  
-HOW DID YOU KNOW?  
-I can see you.  
-...stalker.  
-I know.**

**Even though I basically had that conversation with myself and not with the laptop, my laptop is still very much alive, I swear - well sort of anyway. It's slowly dying away on me. It's got so many problems. Maybe it just needs some good therapy. :) R&R! DON'T FORGET TO CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES! :D**


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